


cold outside

by Anonymous



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Nipple Play, Smut, Stupid hentai dialogue (thanks Tsumugi), handjob, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 23:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Tsumugi is watching audition tapes and Kokichi drops by. Things go downhill from there.





	cold outside

Kokichi comes in from the cold.  
  
The wind slams the door shut behind him and he wobbles back and forth on his feet as if still feeling the impact. The kitchen light swings. Back, forth, back, forth, the yellow ring of its illumination bounces from the island to the coffee table and back. Forth. Back. Forth.  
  
Tsumugi doesn't come down to greet him. She's waiting upstairs in her room, waiting for him to take off his boots, and then his scarf, and then his coat. He has a tendency to leave his scarf on the coat hanger and his coat on the back of a chair.  
  
There's a pair of slippers ready for him at the door. It's the same pair he always wears in this house. Yellow, cutesy, modeled after some company's mascot. Surprisingly enough it's not Monokuma.  
  
He takes the stairs up to the alcove of light illuminating the rest of the otherwise dark second floor, shuffles down the hallway, slips through the open door into her bedroom.  
  
It's stuffed to the gills with bits and bobs of fiction ephemera—dolls and figurines, posters, Danganronpa-themed backpacks and cat-eared hoodies, lacy throw pillows with little Monokumas polka-dotted across their frills. Organized chaos, really. It's warm in there. He feels his icy fingers finally starting to thaw.  
  
On top of the tiny wooden dresser in front of her bed sits an equally quaint television set, probably a limited edition only passed around in obscure underground conventions that she was able to nab due to her connections. Two characters Kokichi doesn't recognize wave at him from the annoyingly thick border around the annoyingly small screen.  
  
Tsumugi doesn't look at him when he walks in. She's too focused on the tape she's watching. Stacks of steno pads in various bright colors lie on the desk in front of her, some empty, some filled up with her notes. The Usami head on the end of her pink ballpoint pen jiggles frantically as she writes.  
  
"Um...let's see...I want to be on Danganronpa because, uh..." A boy trapped in the tiny screen wrings his hands. "I, uh...I dunno, I just...I think it would be cool, and, uh...you can give me whatever character, I don't really care."  
  
"These chumps get boringer and boringer by the year," Kokichi grumbles, sitting down next to Tsumugi on the frosty purple settee. The plastic buttons sinking into its cushions have Sanrio characters on them.  
  
"That's not a word," Tsumugi says, not looking at him. She taps a button on her phone and the tape switches.  
  
"I was born to be on Danganronpa!" a mousy, unkempt girl screeches. "I'm like, messed up. I crave blood. Once I stabbed my senpai's bitchy girlfriend with a knife I smuggled out of home ec and I got put in detention for it. And once I—"  
  
"Ooh, hard pass." Kokichi reaches over and presses skip.  
  
Tsumugi snatches his wrist with enough force to bruise. He yelps. "Don't screw with the audition process," she hisses. Her hair is up in a messy bun, held together by the butterfly hairclip of some girl from a harem anime Kokichi can't be bothered to remember the name of. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"  
  
"Okay, but you were going to skip her anyway. I saw it in your eyes. You had that oh god, shut up look on your face before I even said anything." Kokichi pouts, trying to look as cute as possible.  
  
"Well—" Tsumugi lets go of his wrist and he rubs it gingerly, still pouting. "I...fine. Just don't do it again. Ugh, what a tasteless yandere..." She shudders.  
  
"I know, right?" Kokichi scoots over more and hugs her arm to his side, peeking at her notes. "She's just so generic. I bet she keeps clippings of her senpai's hair in her bedroom too."  
  
"I bet she takes them out and sniffs them when she masturbates," Tsumugi agrees.  
  
"Ewwww. Gutter brain, gutter brain."  
  
Another girl stares out of the screen, averts her eyes, and fidgets with her skirt. "Um...pleased to meet you. Number 756—" Static blares over the speakers as she says her name. "I'd like to be on Danganronpa because I'm really into the series and I've made a lot of fan stuff for it. I submitted my portfolio and my Twiddler handle is—" Static. "—Anyway, I'd like to be the Ultimate Fan Artist, please."  
  
"How many Ultimate Fan Artists do we have this year?" Kokichi asks, finger hovering over the skip button again.  
  
"About the same as last year, I think?" Tsumugi nudges his hand away, making him whine quietly. "We already threw them a bone in season 47, but since we're allowing talent repeats..."  
  
"Don't even. They're all the same," Kokichi groans. "They could easily be just one person running to the studio in really good disguises. Number 756 is giving you a run for your money, Miss Ultimate Cosplayer." He slouches in his seat, continuing to complain. "God, they're so unimaginative! Where's the fun in just being yourself? I'd take an Ultimate Nudist over another one of these NPCs."  
  
"I don't think Akimoto-san was that bad."  
  
"Akimoto-chan SUCKED."  
  
Tsumugi huffs. "Considering how you got in, I don't think you have the right to be all elitist about people's auditions."  
  
"An elitist and a nepotist make a good couple," Kokichi sings, squishing his cheek against her shoulder. "Mmmm, I love corrupt authority!"  
  
Tsumugi looks irritated for a fleeting moment, but it's replaced with something soft and mushy that scares Kokichi because he doesn't know how to react to it. "And corrupt authority loves you," she sighs.  
  
He shrinks into a ball. "I told you not to say stuff like that," he mumbles. "Stop making goo-goo eyes at me. I'm gonna puke."  
  
"Be sure to do it in the trash can, Cutekichi!"  
  
"Ewwwwwwwwwwww!"  
  
"Cutie alert! Cutie alert!"  
  
"You're a cootie alert!"  
  
He squeaks indignantly when she seals her lips to his without warning, but he doesn't back away. He leans into that familiar rhythm, the back and forth of their tongues as he draws himself into her lap, legs straddling her torso.  
  
It's clear after a few seconds that she wants more. Her glasses knock against his forehead and she pushes them out of the way, gently taking his bottom lip between her teeth in a way that makes his pulse leap. Her hands wander back and forth over his button-down shirt, not sure where they want to be. They travel downwards. She grabs his ass.  
  
Funny, he thinks. She usually doesn't do that when he interrupts her at work. Must've been in a strange mood.  
  
He can't stop himself from moaning when she squeezes both cheeks roughly like a baker kneading dough. Two more squeezes and she's working her way up again, feeling up his thighs and stomach and the bare stretch of his chest after she's undone his shirt from collar to hips.  
  
"Missed you all day, 'Kichi." That's the only explanation she offers for her teeth on his neck, for her thumbs grazing over the sensitive points on his chest. He lets out a gasp that breaks in two as she rolls his nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. He hasn't been touched there in so long.  
  
When she lowers her head and starts honest-to-god sucking on his chest, his cock jumps in his underwear and he lets out an embarrassingly high pitched cry of pleasure. He'd notice the tiny bit of drool dribbling down over his lower lip if he wasn't going fuzzy-headed from her touch already.  
  
Tsumugi looks up and catches his stupefied expression even without her glasses on. He's half sure they're fake anyway. "Ahegao so soon? You must really like having your chest played with, huh." There's a smirk in her voice. He whines. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of Ouma-kun's cute little triple A cups."  
  
"D-don't tell me this is actually how you talk during sex," Kokichi pants. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
"Look at you, coming here without even a bra underneath," she says, ignoring him. "Only a desperate slut like Ouma-kun would do that."  
  
"Just kill me right now."  
  
"Hmm? What's this?" She's fucking doing it on purpose. "There's a bulge in your pants! I wonder what it is?"  
  
"Shirogane-chan," he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
  
"Oh! It looks like your cock wants to say hello!" He's about to tell her to just shut up and let him do the work, but suddenly his fly's down and her hand is digging into his briefs. "Hello, dick-kun! You're certainly standing tall and proud today!"  
  
"A-Ahhh!" Kokichi whimpers, his hips twitching. "Don't call it dick-kun! That's really weird!"  
  
"Good moooorning, penis-kun. Nice to meet you! Sure, I'll shake your hand." With that, her fingers wrap around his shaft and give it a good jerk.  
  
His entire body spasms. "Nnn—nnnnhh, that's—not how—you're just grabbing him and shaking him around, you dumb pervert—!"  
  
"What a firm handshake!" Tsumugi giggles. "I guess I have no choice but to shake harder!"  
  
And shake harder she does. She's so rough it almost hurts, but the pleasure outweighs the pain by so much it overloads Kokichi's system and he's left squealing and begging and bucking up into her grip, bizarre dirty talk completely forgotten.  
  
"Does it feel good?" he hears her ask. "You look like your brain went kaput. Ahaha, all it takes is a few strokes for you to turn into a stupid bitch."  
  
At this point he wonders if he really is dumbed down, because her words are setting his body on fire. "Please!" he moans. "Pleeeease, I'm soooo close, c'mon..." He throws his head back and sobs, bouncing his hips harder and harder. Just a little more, just a little more...  
  
Her hand slows down and the heat coiling in his lower belly cools just a bit. What on earth is she doing? "Is that all you're going to say? How...unimaginative."  
  
Oh.  
  
Kokichi briefly recognizes that he's going to have to stoop to her level to get off this time, but fuck it, it's not like he has a sense of shame anyway. "It's...cold outside," he says stupidly. "Dick-kun forgot his jacket, and—Shirogane-chan, I'm seriously gonna die of embarrassment."  
  
"Dick-kun forgot his jacket," she repeats.  
  
His face turns red. "Yeah, are you just gonna let him freeze out there?"  
  
A slow smile creeps onto her face and he has the distinct feeling that he's never going to hear the end of this. "Not a chance! I'm a good samaritan," she says. She starts stroking again and his small frame trembles against her, everything inching closer to that cliff's edge he's seeking.  
  
"Oh god..." he whines, breaths coming fast and shallow.  
  
"More creative," she prompts him, the shadow of a laugh in her words.  
  
He shoots her a glare but it's so cloudy with lust that it doesn't look threatening at all. "Keep...keep going. I'm...gonna lose my mind, I..." He pitches forwards and braces his hands against her shoulders, working his hips back and forth, back and forth. "M-my brain's turning into goo inside my head...I'm gonna melt..." She starts stroking faster. Her skin feels hot against his—does this actually turn her on? Shit, it probably does. "I-I'm gonna melt all over Shiro-chan—! Nnnh, aahhn, it's so slippery down there! S-something's coming out—!"  
  
She's pumping so fast that he's dizzy, her breath coming in hot puffs against his neck. One, two, three more strokes—  
  
"I'm cumming! P-point it away from your shirt, I'm gonnna cum all over—! Ah, ah, ahhh—Oh my gooooooood!" he screams, tears slipping down his cheeks. As if on cue, thick ropes of cum shoot out of his cock, splattering all over Tsumugi's shirt in a firework display of ecstasy.  
  
Kokichi collapses.  
  
"I didn't know you had that in you," Tsumugi murmurs, evidently amused. "Maybe you should join the writing board for this season." Her other hand, the one that isn't plastered with sticky precome, winds itself in his hair as she brings him in for a round of post-orgasm cuddles.  
  
"Maybe you should shut up."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
\--  
  
"Are you sure about this...? It's really pushing the boundaries of fanservice..."  
  
"We're running an R-18 show. It'll fit right in. Besides, we've had plenty of perverted comic relief characters in the casts before this one, right?"  
  
"Ah, but the actress might..."  
  
"Do you have any problems with our script, Iruma-chan?"  
  
"Fuck no! Bring it on, shitheads!"  
  
"See?"  
  
"...I guess I'll go ahead and approve it, then."

 

**Author's Note:**

> There's no reason to ship oumugi. There's no content, ew het, and most of all, it's just an objectively garbage pairing.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Fuck, I love garbage.


End file.
